


Control

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Dominance, Jaeger pilots hooking up, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content, Team Hot Dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Herc met Stacker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quigonejinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quigonejinn/gifts).



The first time Herc met Stacker was in June of 2015 on a joint jaeger mission to kill the first Category III kaiju. Stacker was the kind of pilot who was all business, calm under pressure, and Herc respected that neither he nor Tamsin were wont to fill the comms with idle chatter. Scott hated working with pilots like that, Herc knew, because it usually meant they weren’t inclined to go partying afterwards like Scott wanted. As soon as they finished briefing the Toyko Shatterdome’s marshal and changed out of their drivesuits into sweats, Scott headed straight for their temporary quarters to change once more. Herc didn’t need the Drift to know his brother was headed for the nearest bar to pick up yet another jaeger fly.

“Quit being such a stick,” Scott told Herc as Herc shut the door to their quarters. “We’re only here for another forty-eight hours before they send us home. At least get a shout.”

Herc shook his head, refusing as had become his habit. “Gotta find Chuck first.”

Scott sighed. Herc knew his brother would’ve happily put Chuck in the care of strangers, given their jobs, but Herc couldn’t do it. He’d risked everything to save his son, and his son paid him back by sneaking aboard jumphawks whenever Herc and Scott were deployed for longer than forty-eight hours, especially if it was somewhere exotic like Toyko or Manila. Chuck wasn’t allowed in LOCCENT, but the Lucky Seven crew had no problem letting him watch the fights from their screens in the jaeger launch bay – or letting him learn how to tweak a jaeger for optimum performance. A better man than Herc would punish Chuck for it, but Herc knew his son wanted to be where his father and uncle were in case the worst happened. Chuck didn’t want some suit and tie telling him his father died in a jaeger; Chuck wanted to know that his father went down fighting every step of the way. It wasn’t healthy, Herc knew, but he’d long ago resigned himself to raising a son with issues.

“Fine. But if you don’t show up at the bar in an hour, don’t expect me to save you a seat,” Scott said as he changed into jeans, a denim shirt emblazoned with the Lucky Seven logo on the back, and trainers. 

“Just don’t be an idiot,” Herc told his brother. Scott gave him a ‘who, me?’ look, stuffed his wallet into his back pocket, and left the room.

Herc had no plans on being his brother’s wingman that night. Exiting the room, he went in search of his son. It didn’t take him long to find Chuck.

At twelve, Chuck was undergoing that awkward stage where his body was mostly gawky limbs; his saving grace was that he’d been training in martial arts for the last year, in an attempt to get him interested in something to channel that anger of his. He was still growing into his adult height, and Herc swore as he saw the high waters on Chuck’s pants. Damn boy was growing faster than Herc could keep him clothed.

Herc’s heart sank when he saw who Chuck was with. Stacker hadn’t yet changed out of his drivesuit; the Coyote Tango logo was clearly visible on the black armor. 

“Now, much as I appreciate your curiosity, you are not allowed in the jaeger bays unsupervised,” Stacker was telling Chuck, marching him to Herc’s door.

“I wasn’t unsupervised,” Chuck shot back. “I had permission.”

“From whom?” Stacker asked, stopping short of Herc’s quarters.

Chuck’s face looked mulish.

Stacker nodded once, satisfied. “You might get away with that behavior in Sydney, Mr. Hansen, but not here in Tokyo. Lucky Seven’s crew is being reprimanded for allowing you to wander off.” Stacker looked to Herc. “I found your son trying to repair my jaeger.”

Herc’s lips twitched. Stacker sounded thoroughly insulted. “Chuck, inside my quarters, now. No playing with the computer.”

“I hate you,” Chuck said, but he went inside the room.

“I know,” Herc muttered, sighing. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know he was even here until one of my crew told me he’d snuck aboard a jumphawk. We were already headed out to meet the kaiju.”

“He’s going to keep doing that,” Stacker noted. “Might want to consider something else. I wouldn’t recommend handcuffs, though.”

Herc barked a laugh at that. “Why’s that?”

A trace of a smile graced Stacker’s lips. “Because that’ll teach him how to pick locks, and that’s a dangerous thing to know.” Stacker paused. “I actually came by to talk to you, but it can wait until tomorrow. Best not to let your son figure out how to escape from a jaeger pilot’s quarters.”

“You sound like the voice of experience.”

“Let’s just say I had an interesting childhood, and we’ll leave it at that. Will you be practicing in the kwoon in the morning?”

“Only way I can get Chuck moving without biting everyone’s heads off, especially my brother’s.”

“I’ll see you then, around 0700.” Stacker nodded once, then executed a perfect pivot and headed back the way he came.

Herc took a moment to appreciate the way Stacker looked from the rear – the drivesuits were molded to fit specifically to each pilot – before catching himself and turning his focus on his son. Now was not the time to remember that he liked men as much as he liked women – but damn, that British ass looked fine….

* * *

Herc wasn’t expecting much when Stacker showed up the next morning. Chuck was his usual growling self – he was not, unlike his father, a morning person – and was taking it out on Herc. Not for the first time, Herc wondered how long Chuck’s anger over his mother’s death would last; the counselors all said that Chuck just needed time to get over it, but Herc wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Come on, Chuck,” Herc called. “The sooner you master this move, the sooner you can get brekkie and go back to that game you were playing.”

Chuck scowled, but went through the move again. Herc was trying to teach him a speed spin attack; Chuck’s body was not cooperating.

“Tuck your elbows in, right hand down, right hand over,” Herc corrected. “Now step forward and keep your head up.”

Stacker watched from the sidelines. “If I may make a suggestion, Ranger Hansen?” he asked.

Herc turned. From the internal press releases, Herc was aware that the other ranger was largely responsible for the development of the kwoon tactics and techniques. “Chuck? Do you want Ranger Pentecost’s input?”

Chuck stopped swinging his staff, and for moment, gawked like the pre-teen he was. Then, he quickly gathered himself. “Sure,” he said.

“You’re afraid the staff will hit you,” Stacker said. “Accept that it will, that by the time you’re done you’ll be bruised and sore, and focus on the steps. Say them aloud if you need to – you’re still learning, so it’s okay.”

Chuck snuck a look at his father, almost as if he thought Herc would say something to counter that. Herc mentally rolled his eyes. “You think I don’t count the steps when I dance?”

“Not when you’re fighting kaiju,” Chuck said. “You just kick its ass.”

Herc winced at his son’s language, but he’d given up disciplining him for it. Having a potty mouth wasn’t the worst offense Chuck had done since his mother’s death. Herc held his breath, hoping Stacker wouldn’t think less of Chuck or Herc.

“Yes, but if you want to fight kaiju, you’re going to need a partner, young Hansen,” Stacker said. “For that, you need to learn to dance, and this is how jaeger pilots dance – with sticks.”

Herc bit back a groan as he realized just why his son kept trying to be present wherever Lucky Strike was. It wasn’t just so he’d know how his father died – it was because Chuck wanted vengeance. On that rainy morning in Tokyo, Herc knew what Chuck wanted as clear as day, and he was both grateful and saddened that it took someone else to see it.

Chuck mastered the move, but he wasn’t finished. “Why don’t you fight my old man?” he challenged Stacker.

Stacker smiled quickly, clearly amused. “I was just about to ask.”

“Been a while since I sparred against someone other than my brother,” Herc admitted, trying not to gawk at the way Stacker’s olive-green T-shirt stretched across his chest, accentuating defined muscles. “Want to see if you and I can talk?”

Stacker’s smile turned wolfish. Anticipation tightened Herc’s gut. “Chuck, put your staff away and sit over on the end if you want to watch,” Herc told his son.

Herc opened with a strike that was quickly parried, and his opinion of the other ranger’s skill was quickly revised. Herc was a brawler; any finesse he had was learned in rooms like this one, or learned from military officers who’d seen a street fighter or a helicopter pilot, and thought Herc could be more. In five minutes, Herc knew that he and Stacker were Drift compatible – no surprise to Herc, who’d spent his first year in the PPDC as a test pilot, learning how to hide what he didn’t want others to see in the Drift. What surprised Herc, though, was the sudden yearning to be with Stacker, as though they’d chosen the wrong copilots. He had to shake himself; kwoon compatibility was no guarantee that they’d survive their first Drift.

Looking into Stacker’s eyes at the end of their match, Herc knew Stacker felt the same.

“Good match,” Stacker said. He drew a deep breath before turning to Chuck. “Did you like that?”

“That was awesome!” Chuck said, enthused. “Can you show me that move you did to score that last point, Dad?”

“Not right now,” Herc told him, aware it took a level of skill that his son didn’t currently have. “We’ll work up to it, though, okay? Go on ahead to the mess hall; I want to speak to Ranger Pentecost. Do not disturb your uncle and do not run anywhere else, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Chuck said sullenly and exited the room.

“After that,” Stacker said with a smile, “I think we can drop the titles. You can call me Stacker or Stacks.”

“Herc, never Hercules,” Herc returned, shaking hands. “Unless you really want to piss me off.”

“Noted.” Stacker stood close. “I’d like to get to know you better. You doing anything this afternoon, say around 1430?”

“Just the usual post-kaiju-kill press at noon, but other than that, I was planning on making sure my son doesn’t get into any more trouble.”

“My crew chief has her son working with her. Tim’s sixteen, but he’s a good kid. If it’s okay with you, I can arrange for Tim to give your son time on Coyote Tango – not the half-assed job he was trying last night. He was right, by the way; the left knee hydraulics need work.”

Herc knew he was being maneuvered. The problem was, he couldn’t find a good reason to object. Confidence had always been a turn-on for him; tack on a man who came prepared, and Herc was suddenly, acutely aware that it had been three months since he’d gotten laid. “All this just for someone you barely know? What happens when you find out I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time?”

Stacker grinned. “I guess it depends on what you do once you get to know me. So is that a yes, I’ll find someone to occupy Chuck’s time while you and I get better acquainted, or a no, you’re not into me that way?”

Herc eyed the other man a moment. He couldn’t believe that this fine specimen of Ranger wanted him. “Ever had anyone tell you no, you’re too confident?”

Stacker laughed. “Tamsin does all the time. I’m still waiting, Herc.” 

The way Stacker purred Herc’s name sent shivers down Herc’s spine, and he had to breathe carefully before replying. “That’s a yes.”

Satisfied, Stacker pressed a kiss on Herc’s lips before stepping back. “I’ll send Tim to pick Chuck up at 1420. I’ll meet you in my quarters at 1430.”

“What about your copilot?” Herc asked, aware that copilots generally shared rooms, even those of mixed gender.

“Tamsin’s gone for the day – she never likes sticking around in the ‘dome after we kill a kaiju.”

Herc nodded, understanding. He’d heard of pilots who spent the day after a kaiju kill out in open air, needing to see something other than steel walls. “I’ll see you then. And Stacker – thanks.”

Stacker grinned before turning to leave.

True to his word, Stacker sent Tim to pick up Chuck, who was beyond excited at the opportunity to legally access Coyote Tango. “Now, you listen to Tim,” Herc cautioned his son. “Don’t go wandering off and don’t play with anything without permission, you understand?”

Chuck shot his father an impatient glare. “I’m not a baby.”

“Do you want to sit here and consider the walls instead?” Herc demanded.

Sullenly, Chuck said, “No, sir.”

Tim crouched down slightly. “I want to do this with you, Chuck. You were right about the knee hydraulics, and I’d like to see if you can spot anything else. I can’t let you into the jaeger bay, though, unless your dad okays it, and if you’re not going to respect him or me, that’s a no-go in my book.”

Chuck stared at the young jaeger tech, shocked that he had veto power.

Herc shot Tim a grateful look. “Now, Chuck, will you do as I asked?”

Chuck straightened visibly. “Yes, sir. Sorry. I’ll do what you say, Tim.”

Tim stood. “Okay then.” He fished out an orange plastic pass on an adjustable lanyard – the kind given to manufacturer’s technical reps for jaeger work – and slipped it over Chuck’s head. “Now, this is your pass to be with me. It’s time-coded, so when it turns purple, that means it’s dinner time and time for all good jaeger tech helpers to eat and go back to their quarters. I’ll bring you back no later than 1730.” 

Chuck bounced in his shoes and Herc hid a smile.

“Thanks, Tim,” Herc said. “Hope Stacker doesn’t owe you too much for this.”

Tim shook his head. “Don’t worry about that, sir. Come on, Chuck, stay with me and don’t run ahead.”

Herc waited until they’d walked out of sight before he used the wall-mounted computer screen to check the location of Stacker’s quarters, which turned out to be a few doors down the hall. 

Stacker opened the door promptly. He was dressed in a pair of PPDC-issue sweats and a navy short-sleeved T-shirt; Herc had a feeling that the man lived in uniform regardless of whether he was on duty or not. Herc had known guys like that since he’d enlisted in the RAAF at seventeen; he tended to think that they’d bought a little too deeply into the military mindset. 

Still, Stacker looked good in that blue-and-gray outfit, and Herc went with his first impulse and kissed the man for it.

“Impatient?” Stacker drawled, amused.

“And if I said yes?” Herc asked, raising an eyebrow. He put his hands on Stacker’s waist.

Stacker laughed, low and smooth. “I have a better idea.” 

“Planning on taking your time?” Herc asked, surprised. He’d come to prefer quick encounters that scratched the itch but didn’t leave much room for lingering kisses or slow exploration. Part of that had been self-preservation; two years’ worth of grieving over his wife had made him gun-shy about letting anyone else into his heart. The other part had been Herc’s awareness that his son was prone to acting out if he left him unattended too long.

Stacker smiled. “Someplace you’d rather be? Tim will be entertaining your son for the next three hours. I’d like to make the most of that.”

Herc blinked, surprised. Stacker waited calmly, and Herc was abruptly aware this was no ordinary hookup. What Stacker wanted from him beyond that, Herc wasn’t sure, but he decided he liked the notion that this encounter wasn’t going to be over in twenty minutes or less. “No, not unless there’s a kaiju attack.”

Stacker acknowledged that condition with a nod before leaning forward and kissing Herc, taking the time to thoroughly explore his mouth and nip at his jawline. Herc tried to give back as much as he got, suspecting his new lover was one of those very controlled people, and wanting to see just what it would take to unravel Stacker. The heat rising between them made concentrating on that goal difficult, especially since Stacker got Herc out of his T-shirt first and was taking advantage of that fact to teach Herc that he really, really liked having his nipples sucked.

Herc moaned. It felt like there was a direct line between his left nipple and his cock. He wanted to be naked now, damn it, wanted Stacker’s mouth farther south, but the other man seemed fascinated by Herc’s response, as if he wanted to see just how loud Herc could get. Shuddering with desire, Herc managed, “Stacker, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come and then I won’t be any good for a while.”

Stacker smiled and lifted his head off of Herc’s chest. “Can’t have that,” he agreed. “Think it’s time we got rid of some clothes.”

Relieved by that statement, Herc quickly shed his clothes as Stacker stepped out of his. Herc was surprised to see that the other man had gone commando, but it meant he could see what he was getting. Needing to touch, he closed the distance between them and reached for Stacker’s cock.

Once again, his efforts were thwarted. “You like being a tease?” Herc demanded.

Stacker laughed. “No. I know what I want, and what I want is to give you pleasure. Will you let me?”

Herc looked at him, once again surprised. “Nothing for you?”

“Later,” Stacker promised.

Herc considered it for a moment. It didn’t sound like anything bad, and if Stacker wanted to be in control, Herc couldn’t find a reason to object. “Okay.”

Stacker leaned forward and kissed him slowly, backing Herc up until the back of Herc’s legs touched the bed. “Sit down and then lie back,” Stacker directed.

Herc compiled, and soon found himself to be the center of Stacker’s attention. It was a heady feeling to be touched, licked, kissed, and stroked as if he was the only person who mattered, as if Stacker’s pleasure was secondary to Herc’s own. It felt a bit like being worshipped, and the sheer focus and skill Stacker applied sent Herc reeling. By the time Herc climaxed, he knew he was spoiled for this kind of attention, and he wanted desperately to return a measure of what he’d received.

“Please, let me touch you,” Herc panted.

Stacker indulged him, directing him to suck him off. Herc relished the feel and weight of the other man’s cock in his mouth and on his tongue, and let himself savor it for a moment before he took a breath and started to work the length deeper into his mouth. Stacker stroked his head, not pressing down, but Herc felt the silent command anyway. He wasn’t sure how much he could take, but Herc thought it was worth trying, anyway. Glancing up at Stacker, he saw approval, and groaned, loving the feedback. It seemed like forever before Herc worked the entire length into his mouth, but then it didn’t take long before Stacker shuddered and came.

Herc swallowed hastily and drew back, sitting on his haunches for a moment before he rose to his feet.

Stacker met his eyes and kissed him, closed-mouth. “Go sit on the bed,” he directed, and Herc knew at that moment his lover wasn’t quite done. It would take Herc years before he learned how to convince Stacker to let go of that fine control, years in which both men enjoyed whatever moments they had together.


End file.
